


A Visit from Santi Claus

by RosalindInPants



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Nic Santi in a Santa suit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21924403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: It had to happen. You all know it did. Hey, I didn't name him, Caine did!
Relationships: Dario Santiago/Khalila Seif, Jess Brightwell/Thomas Schreiber, Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	A Visit from Santi Claus

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Scholar May and Mazeem for contributing names for all the children.
> 
> I am playing rather loosely with historical Christmas traditions here. Would St. Nick have evolved to be anything at all like Santa Claus in this alt history? Who knows, but it's fun!

Niccolo Santi held up the red-and-white suit, eyeing it as he might a drink at a particularly questionable bar. “Must I do this?”

Wolfe couldn’t help but laugh as he packed boxes wrapped in colorful paper into a large sack. “It was _your_ idea to host a Christmas party. You had to expect that this would happen.”

From beyond the bedroom door, a chorus of small voices squealed out the tune of what Wolfe assumed was a Christmas carol, led by Thomas’s much deeper voice.

With a dramatic sigh, Nic slid a foot into the red trousers with the fur-trimmed cuffs. “And why is that?” he asked, with a note of resignation that said he already knew.

“Niccolo. Santi.” Wolfe said, raising his eyebrow. “You’re named for the role, my dear.”

“I am named for Niccolo _Machiavelli_ , as you very well know.” Nic belted the trousers and reached for the matching red coat. The thing jingled as he picked it up. “A far more influential figure than this Saint Nicholas. _The Prince, The Art of War..._ ”

“Sun Tzu’s _Art of War_ is better, and you know it,” Wolfe said in a familiar refrain that got a laugh out of Nic. 

“I would have you on the floor for that, if you weren’t holding Liam’s present,” Nic replied.

With the coat on, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the character he was set to portray. For all that he grumbled now, he’d gone to the trouble of growing out his beard over the past few weeks, and the soft gray of it tumbling over the bright red of the coat completed the look.

Almost. Putting Liam Brightwell’s gift in the sack with the rest, Wolfe plucked the bright red cap from the dresser and set it atop his lover’s head. He leaned in to give Nic a quick kiss on the nose. “There you are, Saint Nic. Ready to pass out gifts to the children?”

Nic turned to the mirror and adjusted the hat. “This is utterly absurd,” he said, though he was smiling. “Back home it’s Befana who brings gifts to children, and not until Epiphany.” He turned to Wolfe, his expression turning sly as he looked him over. “You know, you could have dressed as Befana. You’re halfway there already in that black robe.”

Wolfe glared at his partner to keep himself from laughing. “I am a _Scholar_. Not a witch. You insult the dignity of my position.” He turned and stalked toward the door with mock rage while Nic chuckled behind him.

He paused in the doorway to look over his shoulder at Nic. "I'll put a stop to the singing. Give them a few minutes to settle down from that, and then come on out."

In the hall, the sounds of singing were much louder, enough to grate on Wolfe’s nerves, though not so much he couldn’t hide it. He’d had more than one reason for volunteering to help Nic prepare the presents.

Strings of Thomas’s new miniature electric lights hung from the rafters, casting a warm light over the main room of the house. More light shone in from the courtyard, where they'd set up the mechanical Christmas tree Thomas had brought. He'd missed the decorated evergreens from Germany, so in his typical fashion, he'd gone and built something marvelous: little clockwork birds fluttered around the branches, which glowed with electric lights shaped like pine cones. For lack of space inside, it sat out in the courtyard beside Nic’s neatly arranged nativity scene, illuminating the statues Nic had brought from Italy so many years ago.

Inside, they’d pushed the furniture to the sides of the room to allow more space for the children to play while the adults watched from their seats along the walls. Glain stood by the door in dress uniform, the new captain’s insignia sparkling on her chest and a mug of spiced ale in her hand, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings.

Thomas had most of the children gathered around his chair and singing along with him. Jess sat in the middle of the group, holding little Alice in his lap. Around them sat the twins, Brendan and Liam, and the middle two Seif-Santiago children, all singing at the tops of their lungs.

Off toward the kitchen, Dario stood in close conversation with the oldest of the children, Aaliyah. By the expression on her face, it looked like a lecture, and Wolfe wondered what trouble she’d gotten into this time. She took after her father, that one.

On the couch, Khalila sat with their youngest, Rahima, asleep in her lap. Only a month old, the infant had spent most of the evening on Khalila’s breast, and both looked thoroughly exhausted.

After catching Thomas’s eye to indicate that it was time to wrap up the singing, Wolfe made his way over to Khalila and sat beside her, holding out his arms. With a look of relief, she passed the infant over. The child remained asleep, eyelids not even flickering as Wolfe settled her in his arms, gently rocking. Looking down at her tiny face, he considered that he might, perhaps, even be growing accustomed to doing this.

"The guest room is free, should you wish to sneak off for a nap," Wolfe said to Khalila.

"And miss the children receiving their presents? And Nic in that suit?" she asked, a grin creeping over her tired face. "Never."

Wolfe jerked his chin toward Dario and Aaliyah. "What's the matter with that one?"

Khalila laid her head back against back of the couch with a sigh. "Caught sneaking desserts again. Your fruitcake is missing a chunk now. I'm sure Dario will bring her around to apologize shortly."

"It isn't mine," Wolfe said with a snort of a laugh. "Here in Egypt, we give those things to the dead. It's Jess or Glain you'll need her to apologize to, and best hope it was Jess's. Glain's is spiked."

"Of course it is." Khalila shook her head.

A loud and Italian-accented, "Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!" from the hall, immediately answered with gleeful shrieks, cut any further conversation short.

Bells jingled. Nic emerged, fully in costume with the sack of gifts slung over his shoulder. Between the two of them, Jess and Thomas just barely kept the children seated, Thomas sliding to the floor to free up his chair for Nic. In the kitchen doorway, Dario held his eldest child's arm while she gave him a pleading look. A final whisper in her ear, and he let her go. The expression on her face was believably contrite as she walked over to join the other children.

She sat next to Jess, Wolfe noticed, and whispered something to him while the others had their eyes on Nic and the large sack he was setting down beside the chair. Whatever it was, Jess laughed. Wolfe took that as a sign that there would be no need to haul the girl to a Medica for alcohol toxicity.

Nic got himself seated and looked out at the assembled children. "Have you all been good this year?" he asked, pitching his voice deeper than usual to disguise it. Not very successfully, but well enough to deceive the smaller children, Wolfe thought. Aaliyah Seif-Santiago did not look the least bit convinced, though she sat very still and polite among the others. Nothing like the promise of gifts to secure good behavior.

A chorus of small voices answered, "Yes, Saint Nicholas."

Laughing, Nic opened his bag. "Well, then, I have gifts for all of you good children. Let's see... first we have... Alice Schreiber!"

The tiny girl bounced up from her father's lap babbling, "Santy Claus, Santy Claus!" She held out chubby little hands for the wrapped box Nic offered, and toddled back to Jess with her prize, tugging at the ribbon wrapped around it.

Wolfe was not the least bit surprised to see Jess produce a small knife from his sleeve to assist Alice in opening the package. A few cuts, and a shrill shriek of glee pierced the air, loud enough that Rahima stirred in Wolfe's arms. Khalila reached for the baby, but Wolfe waved her off, rising to walk with the infant behind the group of children. A few times back and forth across the room and he had her settled again, dozing against his shoulder. Jess had gotten Alice calmed down as well, seated back in his lap as she clutched the mechanical cat she'd taken from the box. Another creation of Thomas's, supposedly realistic in behavior.

Malik Seif-Santiago came forward next, taking his gift with a shy, whispered, "Thank you," before darting over to Dario for help opening it. An automaton for him, too, this one a rabbit that twitched its ears and looked around the room from the child's lap, its blue eyes softly glowing in its metal face. With a cautious hand, the child traced the contours of its frame, observing the way the pieces fit together. Destined for the artifex department, that one.

His sister Yasmine received the next gift. Far bolder than her brother, she threw her arms around Nic in an enthusiastic embrace before taking the box that he offered. It was a heavy one, Wolfe remembered, but she managed it well enough for the few steps it took to get back to her seat. Unlike the younger ones, she got the ribbon undone on her own and tore off the paper that covered the box. This one was of finer quality than the others, the top inlaid with a mosaic, and when Yasmine opened the hinged lid, she let out a soft gasp. Inside was an artist's treasure trove: paints and modeling clay, calligraphy pens and inks, more types of pencils than Wolfe had ever seen in one place, all neatly arranged with a stack of sketchpads to one side.

That certainly answered the question of what Nic and Dario had spent so long searching the markets for last week. Nic watched with a fond smile as the young artist examined her new supplies, holding a silvery pen up for her parents to see. Wolfe had a feeling the girl would be stopping by for art lessons more often now, and made a mental note to keep her favorite cookies stocked. No point in having grandchildren if he couldn't slip them sweets when their parents weren't looking.

After Yasmine came the Brightwell twins, who exchanged suspicious glances as they approached Nic. They saw through the disguise, almost certainly, but they had the decency not to spoil it for the younger children. Whatever suspicions they had were forgotten quickly enough when they received matching packages and raced to open them, shouting their progress over each other as they worked. The paper and string came off easily enough, but the boxes were puzzles, a design Jess and Dario had worked on together based on old smugglers' chests. Each had a unique solution, and it would be up to the boys to decide whether to share it or keep for themselves a private hiding place for their treasures. Liam got his open first, revealing a chess set, and moments later, Brendan uncovered his go set. Those would do well to satisfy the boys' competitive spirits.

Aaliyah waited her turn with admirable patience no doubt inspired by the need to atone for her earlier misbehavior. As soon as the twins had their boxes open, she stood and walked to Nic with prim dignity and a very knowing smile. "Thank you so much, _Saint Nic_ ," she said with a knowing wink, taking the long package that he withdrew from the sack. A quick peck on Nic's cheek, and she picked her way back past her younger siblings to sit on the couch with her mother and uncover her prize. That meant that Khalila was perfectly positioned to get a good look at the pair of swords contained within the wrapping paper.

And Wolfe found himself perfectly positioned to receive Khalila's glare, turned first on Nic, then on him, and finally, when they'd both shaken their heads to deny responsibility, on Glain.

Glain, who tossed back the rest of her ale and met that glare with a fierce grin. "You'll be wanting fencing lessons for her, I presume?"

Wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open, Aaliyah examined first the wooden practice sword, set with glass gems and brass accents to make it worthy of putting on display, and then the much simpler foil. "Oh, mother, father, please, may I?" she breathed, giving both her parents that heart-melting look that children had such a natural talent for.

Wolfe wasn't quite fluent enough in the dialect of Spanish sign that the Seif-Santiago family used to follow the argument that followed between Dario and Khalila, but Glain moved close enough to whisper to him, "They've spent the past year debating whether she should learn Arabian or Spanish sword fighting first."

Narrowing his eyes to compensate for the absence of his glasses, Wolfe considered the swords in Aaliyah's hands. "That's a French foil. And the wooden one is a Welsh design."

Glain shrugged. "Settles the matter, doesn't it? The kid wanted to learn French fencing. And everyone deserves a good Welsh sword." She let her accent come out especially heavy on those last words.

"Nic will be disappointed she didn't go with Italian," Wolfe said.

Not too very disappointed, though, to judge by the pride on his face at the sight of his eldest grandchild with those swords in her hands. Taking one last package from his sack, Nic stood, interrupting the argument between Khalila and Dario as he passed between them to bring the gift to the infant in Wolfe's arms. "And the final gift goes to Rahima Seif-Santiago," he said softly, holding out the wrapped package.

Dario sprung to his feet and hurried over to assist in unwrapping it. "Oh... _Madre de Dios_ , you got it to work," Dario said, lifting a book from the package for Khalila to see. A slim volume, printed on heavy, sturdy paper using brilliantly colored inks to produce images as vivid as any painting.

Wolfe had worked with Jess and Thomas for months to achieve that exact result, and this particular project built on years of research and experimentation in printing. That little book was beyond anything Wolfe might have dreamed of seeing in his lifetime under the Library's old regime, and the child in his arms would never know life without it. Without it and eleven others like it, in fact, a set of illustrated fables from around the world.

There was a lump in Wolfe's throat. An irritating distraction from the excited chatter filling the air around him. He'd played only a small role in the project, really, but there was Jess's voice, proclaiming that they couldn't have done it without him, and Thomas, holding Alice up to see the books and telling her how her grandfather had helped make them.

"Story time?" the small child asked.

"Yes, certainly," Dario replied. He held out his arm for his daughter, who continued to snore unaware of the miracle that had been gifted to her, even as Wolfe passed her over. "Are you done with that chair, Saint Nic?"

"You are welcome to it," Nic said. "Merry Christmas!"

A collective squeal rose from the assembled children as they surged toward the chair. Even Aaliyah looked excited, leaving her new swords in her mother's care and rushing to join her younger siblings at her father's feet.

While the children jostled for position, Thomas turned to Wolfe with a smile. "Look at that. The two of you are standing under the mistletoe!"

Wolfe glanced up. Yes, there it was, hanging right over his head. He distinctly did not remember hanging it there, nor did he recall approving its placement.

The look on Jess's face was all too transparent. Still a scheming brat after all these years. "You know what that means, don't you?" Jess asked.

Before Wolfe could protest the injustice of such an ambush, Nic's arms were around him, the bells on his ridiculous suit jingling, and Nic's lips were on his, and without quite meaning to, Wolfe found himself kissing back, right there in front of all the children. Enthusiastically.

"How does that English song go?" Glain asked. She hummed a few notes, then sang, under her breath, "I saw Grandpa Wolfe kissing Santi Claus?"

Jess and Thomas both burst into laughter.

Taking a step back from his partner, Wolfe rolled his eyes. "Yes, the three of you are the very height of comedic genius. Come, my dear Saint Nic, I think the time has come for your departure."

"Hmm. I suppose so," Nic said. As he stepped out from beneath the mistletoe, he caught Thomas's arm and pulled him toward it.

Wolfe, seizing the opportunity, gave Jess a quick push toward Thomas. Turnabout was, after all, fair play.

Thomas caught Jess in his arms and lifted him off the floor for a kiss passionate enough that Wolfe turned away. He could hear Glain's laughter behind him, followed by her footsteps heading toward the kitchen for more ale. An entirely understandable reaction.

Gathered around the chair that Dario had claimed, the children leaned in to see the book that he held up in one hand while he cradled his infant daughter in his other arm. On the couch, Khalila sat upright, curiosity painting over the exhaustion on her face. They would all be entertained for a while.

Yes, now was the time to slip away and get Nic out of that silly costume. Linking arms with his partner, Wolfe contemplated how much of a private celebration they might manage before they were missed. Nic had suffered enough indignity for the grandchildren's amusement, and it was high time Wolfe gave him his due reward for it.


End file.
